


Now That I'm Gone

by queenofsevenfandoms



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Book/Movie 3: The Death Cure, Crank Newt (Maze Runner), Fix-It, Hurt Thomas (Maze Runner), M/M, Newt (Maze Runner) Has a Crush, Newt (Maze Runner) Lives, Oblivious Thomas (Maze Runner), Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-The Death Cure, Sad Newt (Maze Runner), The Death Cure Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28695171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofsevenfandoms/pseuds/queenofsevenfandoms
Summary: Post-Death Cure fix it for Newt and Thomas.“But you still love him.”There it was. Newt opened his mouth, then firmly shut it. Of course I still fucking love him. The moment Thomas came up in that stupid box, Newt knew there was no turning back. Now, he doubted there was anything in the world that could happen that would change the way he felt about Tommy. The stupid shank stabbed him and he still loved him, for God’s sake.Inspired by the song "Drivers License" by Olivia Rodrigo.
Relationships: Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 98





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to Drivers License by Olivia Rodrigo on repeat yesterday, and thought about the lines from both Newt and Thomas's POV. You'll hear from Thomas, too, on his thoughts about Newt!
> 
> If you've not read the Death Cure or Crank Palace, Keisha, Dante, and Jackie are characters Newt met while at Crank Palace. The events of what happened in Death Cure are a combination of the movie and book.
> 
> A few important notes:
> 
> -Thomas did 'kill' Newt (like in the books) but the way it went down was like the movies with a bit of wrestling and a knife.  
> -I didn't include Keisha's brother and her other daughter (too many characters)  
> -In the book, Newt went to the Crank Palace, whereas in the movie, he was off rescuing Minho. I stuck to the book version.  
> -In Crank Palace, Keisha's son Dante doesn't speak.
> 
> None of the characters belong to me, but to James Dashner. Any direct quotes are credited in the work.  
> Inspired lines from the lyrics of Drivers License by Olivia Rodrigo.

* * *

The first time Newt revisited the Last City after the destruction of WCKD, it happened. There were no words to explain what happened, other than seeing where he lost Thomas crushed him with an unexpected force. Two days later, he still hadn’t left his bed.

Keisha tried to convince him that his friends had made it out. It wasn’t that Newt didn’t have faith that they made it out. It was Tommy, for God’s sake. The kid could achieve the impossible without breaking a sweat. But if they survived, they were far away from here, and knowing Vince and Jorge, they would never allow them to return to the city. Newt would be separated from them until the end of time. Besides, by now Tommy had the time to sort out his feelings for Teresa. _The one that made me doubt everything I felt for Thomas._ At least Newt had Keisha and her kids. If it wasn’t for them—Newt didn’t want to think about where he would be.

A voice in the doorway startled him from his thoughts. “You have to let it go eventually, man.”

 _I still fucking love him!_ That fact didn’t change anything, so Newt said nothing. Keisha didn’t understand. The only one who could understand was Minho, and he wasn’t around.

“Look, kid,” Keisha coaxed. “I know—"

“No, you don’t!” Newt exploded, pushing himself up from the bed. He flinched as he caught a glance of the mirror in the room. Often, he still expected to see himself that way in the reflection; dark eyed and dark veined. “I can’t be in this bloody place anymore.” _I can’t see the place I turned him away, can’t hear the ghost of his voice in my ear._ “It’s too much.”

Keisha’s eyes softened. “All right.”

That was the beautiful thing about Keisha. She always heard his unspoken words.

Within the hour, they were packed up and in search of a car. Newt could picture himself driving up at the right moment, the wind blowing in his hair as he saw Tommy for the first time. _You fucking sap_. He couldn’t be sure that Thomas wanted anything to do with him after the way Newt attacked him that night. But knowing Tommy, it was ancient history. _The heart on that boy._ For the first day after waking up, Newt wanted to find Thomas and kill him for not knowing how to aim better. An inch to the left and Thomas would have fulfilled Newt’s requests. As it turned out, Thomas’s poor aim was the very thing that allowed him to be cured.

Every sight and smell was a trigger in Newt’s brain of the the last night he saw his friends. The smell of ash and decay was a pair of hands around his throat, restricting him of all air. The creaking of metal was as loud as the bombs detonated that night. The city roads were covered in debris were the shattered pieces of the friendship with Tommy that he lost.

Dante’s little fingers intertwined with Newt’s and he squeezed Newt’s hand tight. For such a quiet boy, he was insanely observant of others. Any time Newt began to panic, Dante was there; grabbing his hand, or leaning his head against Newt’s shoulder. Something about the presence of another while panicking allowed him to steady himself quicker than he was able to on his own. The pressure on his hand was almost enough to distract Newt from the unease building in his chest as they neared the familiar tent.

“I hate coming to this bloody place.”

Keisha laughed. “They did save your life!”

“Don’t care. Still hate ‘em.”

“Suppose you would after the shit they did to ya.” Keisha gave him a small pat on the cheek. “Won’t let anything happen to you or any of my kids again. Got it?” She pushed open the flap to the tent. The tent belonging to a handful of survivors. _WKCD_ survivors.

Newt wasted no time in getting to the point the moment they were inside. “Need a car. Tired of this shuckin’ city.”

A stocky man with a patchy dark beard laughed. “Though you said you’d never come back here.”

“Didn’t have a choice.”

“Where will you go?” The man asked.

Newt shrugged. “Not a bloody clue. Don’t care.”

“There’s a group of munies on an Island a couple hundred miles from here,” a soft voice said. _Who said that?_

The man ran a hand through his beard, a contemplative look in his eyes. “That’s your best bet, kid.”

 _He may have saved my life but I hate that buggin shank._ “How the bloody hell are we supposed to get to an island? We don’t even have a car! Why would we have a shuckin ship?”

A blonde doctor in the corner lowered her head. _She does that every time we’re here._ Did she know Newt? Did she know something about Thomas and the others?

“I’ll take you.”

It took Newt several seconds to realize that the blonde woman was the one who spoke.

“What?”

The woman met his eyes. _They’re a startlingly familiar shade of blue. Where have I seen her before?_ “We have a berg. I'll take you where you need to go.”

“And now _why_ would you do that for us?” Keisha asked.

_And why didn't they tell us they had a bloody berg?_

The woman twisted her hands together, avoiding the stares of her fellow WCKD doctors. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“So WCKD has suddenly gained a bloody moral compass? Nope. Not buying it.”

The woman flinched. But then, to Newt’s surprise, her face darkened and she rose to her feet. “Don’t speak about things you don’t know, Newt.” The pure venom in her voice caused Keisha to move a protective hand in front of Newt’s stomach.

“Watch how you speak to my boy.”

Pain flashed through the woman's eyes. “Your boy?” 

“As good as.” Keisha grabbed Newt’s arm. “We’re done here.”

Newt and Keisha barely made it a step when a voice cried out.

“Wait!” The woman darted in front of them. Her eyes were wild, and if Newt didn’t know her profession, he would guess that she had the flare. “I know you don’t trust me, but I really can take you to the safe haven.”

“ _Again_ ,” Newt emphasized. “Why should we trust you?”

“I don’t care if you trust me!”

Keisha laughed. “Lady—"

“They’re alive, Newt.”

Newt stepped back, his hand flying to his chest. “ _What?"_

“Thomas, Minho, the others.” The woman’s expression was as soft as the compassionate tone in her voice. “They made it out.”

“You—you’re lying,” Newt stuttered.

“She’s tellin’ the truth,” the male doctor said, sadness etched in every line of his old face. _Why are they all acting so buggin strange?_ Maybe they did have the flare, after all.

“They made it out,” the woman repeated, then lowered her voice. “Let me help you.”

Keisha glanced at Newt with her lips pressed firmly together and a question in her eyes. Words failed him in a moment he desperately needed them. What if the woman was lying? _I don’t think I can recover WCKD twice. I don’t think I can lose him twice._

There was a soft tug on his hand. “Newtie?”

Keisha gasped.

The shock of hearing Dante speak blocked all logic in his head. Newt stared, astounded. Another tug on his hand. Newt squatted down to the ground in front of Dante. His brown eyes were shining, darting between Newt and his mother.

“They’re your friends,” the boy whispered. “We should go.”

Newt could still hear Tommy’s voice in his ear. _Just come with me._ “All right,” he heard himself say. “Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter! Thomas is in his feels about missing Newt. Being oblivious as he is, he doesn’t know why he can’t let go.

* * *

The sting of Gally’s brew wasn’t harsh enough to burn away the thoughts in Thomas’s head.  _I’m in the safe haven, Newt. Just like we always talked about._ Thomas looked to the empty spot next to him on the log.  _But you’re not here_.  For months, Thomas had been a living skeleton walking around the safe haven. He kept up the facade of being a good leader up during the day for the sake of the other survivors. At night, he crumbled. Crying, simply because Newt wasn’t around.

The raging bonfire everyone was huddled around popped and crackled. No one even registered the noise, but all Thomas could think about was his time with Newt in the Mountains. The Scorch nights, WCKD fights. He could still see Newts face in the crackling fire, the night stars. Everywhere he went. And he didn’t know why.

Someone in the group cracked a joke about Brenda and Gally. Thomas tried to laugh along. He always tried, but it wasn’t enough. There was always the soft chuckle missing in the chorus of laughter that held him back.

“Newt would have loved this place.”

Nearly everyone averted their eyes at Thomas’s words. As they always did when he brought up Newt. At first, no one wanted to talk about what happened in the last city months ago. After a few weeks of rest, it was all they could talk about each night. Now, the topic was avoided like the flare. All of his friends were tired of hearing about how much he missed him.

The only person that dealt with his repetitive sayings was Minho. “That stupid shank would be pissed at how that girl Katie is running the gardens.”

Thomas tuned out again as the others continued their nightly habit of complaining about the way the safe haven was being run.  _Why can’t I just let go_? Thomas had lost others: Chuck, Winston, Alby, Teresa. Their deaths haunted him, but not in the same way as Newt’s. The one time he caved and asked Minho what he thought, Minho had clapped his shoulder with a sad smile and said:  “ _That’s for you to figure out, shuck face_.”

Thomas stood from the log and laid back in the sand, a hand propped behind his head.  _Did Newt mean what he wrote in the note about me_?  Thomas had read the note nearly every day in the four months since his death. Some days, the ones where Thomas found breathing an impossible task, he couldn’t bring himself to take the wrinkled note out of the vial. He couldn’t read it without hearing his voice.

Brenda had tried to convince Thomas to get rid of the note once. Her words caused something inside him to snap, and the weight of everything and everyone he had lost came crashing into him at the same time. It took hours of panicked breathing and consoling from Minho to calm him down, and no one had brought it up since. 

It didn’t stop them from subtly trying to help both him and Minho move on. They both seemed to be struggling more than the everyone else with the grieving process. Minho with the aftermath of his time and WCKD and losing his best friend, Thomas with the guilt of killing his best friend. Out of everyone, Minho was the only one who knew the truth about that night. Everyone else believed that Newt ended his misery himself. 

_“You have to let go, Thomas,_ ”  his friends said.  _“He’s not coming back.”_

The words, no matter how true, burned Thomas’s chest. A part of him knew his friends were right. Eventually, he would have to let go of the ghost he carried around each day. One day, he wouldn’t turn to his side expecting to find Newt by his side, smirking at something Minho said.

Thomas left his drunk, laughing friends by the fire. And as he walked back to camp, he could almost picture Newt’s shadow by his side.

_I’d follow you anywhere_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newt swears... a lot. He’s picked up some words from Keisha 😂

* * *

The berg was too fucking crowded. There were only four people, but it was too crowded. Dante was asleep in the seat next to Keisha, but Newt continued to pace the floor of the berg.  Knowing that Thomas and the others survived was a huge relief off of Newt’s shoulders. It also brought on a plethora of unwanted questions that had been bugging him ever since they began the journey yesterday morning. What if they kicked him out, believing him to still be infected? Hopefully there was a way to prove he wasn’t a buggin’ crank anymore.  Not yet, at least . And most troubling of all, what if Tommy wasn’t happy to see him?  _I can’t imagine that he would be okay _ _now that I’m gone_. Newt couldn’t imagine Minho, or any of the others were okay after all the klunk they’d been through. It was all WCKD’s fault, all of it. Leave it to those stupid shucks to traumatize an entire generation of survivors. 

And unfortunately for them, the blonde doctor needed another person to help fly the berg. So now, Newt was stuck with  _two_ WCKD doctors. There wasn’t any way in hell that he would sleep a wink with them around, much less with them flying the buggin’ thing around. It didn’t help that the blonde woman kept glancing at him like he would fall over at any minute.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with my face?” He asked her.

The woman froze, gaping the way Thomas always did when he was confused. “I—what?”

“You keep staring at me like I’m about to turn back to a buggin crank.”

Rather than backing down, the woman held his fierce glare, unmoved. “Because you very well could. Now bugger off and make yourself useful.”

_ Bugger off _ ? “What exactly am I supposed to do, hm? There’s not a damn thing on the berg except us! Besides, didn’t you say that klunk was supposed to last a few more weeks?”

“I did,” the woman replied. “But keep pushing your nerves up and you might need it sooner.”

“How do you two know where to go anyway?” Newt asked, internally cursing himself for not asking it sooner. He had been too focused on the fact that Tommy was alive. 

“I had a friend in the Right Arm,” the woman replied. “Mary.”

“ _You_ knew Mary?” Newt asked, his voice incredulous. “How the hell is that possible?”

The male doctor laughed. “Mary used to work for WCKD, genius.”

Newt _had_ forgotten that tiny detail. “Still doesn’t explain how you know where it is. Mary’s dead, she couldn’t have—“

“I know she’s dead!” The woman’s shout echoed through the berg. “Think all the evil thoughts you want about WCKD, about me and Kasey. It doesn’t matter. But Mary was my  _friend_.” Newt could see the tension in the woman’s grip on the wheel. He still didn’t feel sorry for the shank. She was a part of WCKD, after all. “I helped Mary in the Right Arm.”

All of Newts thoughts came to a screeching halt. “What?” 

“Not all of us our monsters, you know. Some of us just weren’t given a choice.” There was a deep sorrow in the woman’s voice, one that reminded Newt of how he sounded when he talked about his friends from the glade.

“How did you know my boy knew Mary?” Keisha asked.

The woman paused. “I heard about the night in the mountains that she died. Knew there were a bunch of kids who escaped the mazes there.” There was something odd about the woman’s voice that Newt couldn’t place. Almost like the lilt of her accent wasn’t supposed to sound the way that it did.

“If you were shuckin’ buddies with Mary, then why stay with WCKD?” Newt asked.

“We needed someone on the inside. Both Kasey and I here helped get supplies to the Right Arm to work on the cure and stay alive. Before your friend Thomas went into the maze, I was the one who helped him get in contact with Mary to give her the location of the various WCKD headquarters.”

Everything WCKD said and did was always a lie. Somehow, their lies drew Newt in like water on a scorching hot day. This time was no exception. He didn’t want to believe her. He  shouldn’t believe her. But Newt got the same feeling he had when Thomas started his klunk in the maze.  _I knew you before._

Keisha clicked her tongue at Newt, who had unknowingly began to pace again. “Son, sit down and shut up. Still need to take it easy after getting stabbed.” There was a flash of anger in her eyes. No matter how many times Newt explained that he left Thomas no choice, Keisha always had a counter argument:  _He could’ve knocked ya out! Could’ve tied you up until you quit yappin_!

If Newt didn’t have his memories of that night, he might agree. But Keisha had never seen him fully past the gone. It was something he wished to forget. Along with the horrible pain in Tommy’s pretty eyes when he realized the blade went in. 

“You don’t know him the way I do,” Newt whispered. 

Keisha’s dark eyes softened a fraction. She walked over from her seat and sank next to him on the ground.

“I know we weren’t perfect,” Newt said, twisting his hands together. “Of course I know that. How could we be? After everything WCKD did to us, I expect we’ll all be twisting in our sleep from buggin’ nightmares for years.”

The man up front let out a small noise, and both Keisha and Newt ignored it.

“You promise me, Keisha,” Newt said firmly. “Promise me you’ll give the shank a chance. I know he’s a stupid shuck but—"

“But you still love him.”

There it was. Newt opened his mouth, then firmly shut it.  _Of course I still fucking love him_.  The moment Thomas came up in that stupid box, Newt knew there was no turning back. Now, he doubted there was anything in the world that could happen that would change the way he felt about Tommy. The stupid shank stabbed him and he still loved him, for god’s sake.

Keisha took one of his hands in her own. 

“I just... I’ve never felt this way for no one before, you know? He’s a stupid shank, probably always will be, but—” Newt laughed. “Look at me turning into a little sappy shank.”

“Turning into?” Keisha’s eyes lit up with humor. “Funny. You’re getting funnier by the day.”

“Shuck it,” Newt snapped, but there was a smile on his face. He put his other hand over Keisha’s, and Keisha’s hand squeezed once in response. 

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Newt hoped that Tommy was happy. That he was surviving and leading the others the way he always did. It was all he could hope for, Thomas’s happiness. But he knew Thomas better than that. The stupid shank was probably beating himself over Newt’s death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSOOO this has me deeply in my feels for poor Newt. 
> 
> Have any idea who the blonde doc is? :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minho is such a good friend! Thomas (as always) is putting all the blame on himself, and (still) trying to figure out why Newt's death hurt him so deeply. Do you think Minho knows? :)

* * *

Some nights, it was easy for Thomas to settle down after a nightmare. He was used to watching a twisted version of reality every night. _I ought to be able to sleep after four months._ Tonight in his dreams, Thomas saw Newt’s dark eyes welcoming him to the glade. But instead of his cheeky greeting, Thomas was stabbed in the chest by a flailing Newt, screaming: “ _It was all your fault! You can’t do one last, lousy thing for me? Gotta be the hero, like always? I hate you. I always hated you._ ”

“He told me once there was a place out there for us somewhere.” Thomas laughed bitterly and gestured around the safe haven. “Well, we made it. But he isn’t here to see it.”

Minho scooped sand into his hand, and let it fall back into the ocean water. The moon was reflecting off the waves, and in any other circumstance, it might be peaceful. “Probably would’ve spent half the time complaining about what a stupid shank you are.”

_ He’s probably right_ , Thomas thought. He wished he could laugh. “It isn’t fair,” Thomas protested. “We should’ve all had more time.”

“Life isn’t fair, shank.” 

“It’s my fault. All of it.”

“How many times have we been over this?” Minho asked, throwing a shell out into the ocean. It made a tiny plop in the water, and then the world was quiet. “It isn’t your fault, shuck face.”

“I should have done more! You got him back for all of what? Half an hour, tops?” Thomas shook his head. “That’s on me, Minho. Not just his death, but Chuck, Vince, Teresa. I should have been better. If I was just... quicker or something—"

Minho exhaled, closing his eyes as if it brought him a magnitude of pain. “You know there was nothing you could have done. For Newt, or Vince, or Teresa. You gotta quit blaming yourself, man.”

Thomas scoffed. “I wish you would quit saying that.”

“Thomas—"

“I can still feel him falling to the ground in my hands,” Thomas whispered. “I still see his face as the life slipped from his eyes, can hear him whispering my name.  _Tommy_ _._ I can still hear the raps of his voice,  begging me to take that necklace.” Thomas clamped his hand over his mouth, inhaling sharply. He was crying in earnest now. “I know—Minho, I know I should get rid of the note. I just can’t. I can’t!”

“Thomas,” Minho said firmly, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Breathe, you stupid shank.”

“I—Minho, I cant.” _ I can’t, Newt. _ “Everything that happened is... it’s all my fault. It’s my fault.”

Minho forced Thomas down to the ground and dug his thumb into the dip of Thomas’s collarbone. “Listen to me, shank. Breathe.”

The world was fuzzy. Minho continued to shake his shoulders and say meaningless words like  breathe. How could Thomas breathe without Newt? For months, Newt was his rock. Even with the others around, Newt was the one who sought Thomas out, encouraged him not to give up, and reminded him to sleep and eat. Newt was the only reason he and the others survived.  The glue that held everyone together.

Thomas clung to Minho, gripping his wrists as if they were the only thing keeping him from falling apart. “Fuck—I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Thomas,” Minho breathed. “You are the shuckiest shuck face I’ve ever met. Shuck it and quit apologizing.” 

When Thomas could hear the peaceful pull and tug of the waves, he sat upright again and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

“Look, Thomas,” Minho patted Thomas’s shoulder. “The others don’t get it, all right? Frypan knew Newt for a long time, yeah. But it wasn’t the same.” Minho laughed. “I kinda feel sorry for them. They’ll never know him the way that you and I did.”

All Thomas could muster up to say was, “ _Yeah_.”

_ But I didn’t know him as long as the others, so why am I barely staying afloat? _ Surely, there was a reason Thomas’s heart felt like it was ripping in two. 

For the rest of the night, Thomas and Minho sat in silence by the ocean, neither willing to face the reoccurring nightmares that visited them in their sleep. Normally, they would venture back to the hut and attempt to doze for a few hours until the sun rose. Tonight they didn't, and it was the only reason that they were awake to see it.

There was an incoming WCKD berg flying towards the island.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't seen the deleted scene from Scorch Trials where Newt says "I won't let you give up," to Thomas... GO WATCH! It's so sweet.
> 
> Quotes from Chapter 55 of Death Cure
> 
> Also all credit to Olivia Rodrigo for the genius that is Drivers License


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long Newt chapter!

* * *

From the window in the berg, Newt could see people running around like crazed ants.

“We need to send out a signal so they don’t shoot us!” The woman, who Newt had finally learned was named Alice, said.

“Just land it far enough away,” Newt replied. “They won’t shoot without seeing who they’re shooting.”

“You sure about that, kid?” The male doctor, Kasey, asked.

“How many times do I have bloody to tell you? You don’t know them the way that I do. Now, land the bloody berg far enough away that it doesn’t destroy anything.”

Kasey grumbled a sarcastic response about being bossed around, but thankfully listened to Newt’s advice.  _ Stupid shank_.

An eternity seemed to pass before the berg was landed on the ground. Newt was buzzing with tension and fear of what would happened the minute the door opened. What if Alice was wrong and his friends hadn’t survived? What if they weren’t here, but at a different safe haven? 

Little Dante let out a tiny groan and tugged on Keisha’s sleeve. The sight brought tears to Newt’s eyes.

Pushing past his own nerves, Newt walked over to the boy and squatted down beside him. “You all right?”

Dante slowly nodded.

“Nervous?”

Dante shook his head no.

Newt looked up at Keisha, who was smiling. “He’s excited, you dummy,” she said.

“Yeah?” Newt smiled at Dante and patted his head. “Well, they’re going to love your cute shuck face, don’t worry.”

A tiny grin appeared on Dante’s face. The guy was finally starting to come around.

Newt rose to his feet, and that’s when the nerves hit.  _I’m still technically a crank._ There was no guarantee they would let Newt enter a place full of people. It would risk exposure to anyone who might not be immune. But they did have the cure, and two doctors who knew how to make it.

“Not gonna let them turn you away, Newt,” Keisha assured him. “No one turns away my kids.”

The comment flooded Newt with gratitude for the woman, and he gave her a fierce hug. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Don’t get all sappy on me now boy,” Keisha said when Newt pulled back, but there were tears in her eyes. “Can’t deal with another sap. Dante’s full of lovely words.”

Dante gave a tiny chuckle. As sweet as the sound was, Newt was losing all ability to focus. He had waited months for this moment. Now it was finally here and he was about to lose his buggin mind.

“Ready?”

Newt turned to Keisha. “Bloody stressed is what I am,” he said under his voice. “Been four months since I’ve seen these shanks.”

“Well,” Keisha said, patting his cheek. “If they don’t let you in, I’ll pretend to crank out and kill them.”

“That’s the bloody opposite of what you’re going to do!”

Keisha laughed, and lifted Dante into her arms. “Whatever you say.”

Alice and Kasey grabbed their bags and moved to the exit. “I’m going first,” Alice said, leaving no room for anyone to argue.

Keisha put a protective hand around Newt and Dante and pulled them out of sight. From where they stood, he couldn’t see anything outside the berg. 

The moment the berg door lowered, Alice stepped forward with her hands in the air. “We’re unarmed. Got a mom and some kids we helped cure from the flare.”

“Cured?” A voice asked.  _Vince._ “How?”

Newt’s heart raced. _This isn’t going to end well_. She’ll tell him she works for WCKD and he’ll shoot—

“My name is Alice.”

A sharp inhale. “The  Alice?”

“The very same.” It was that moment that Newt realized her accent was different. It sounded like his. “Been a long time since we chatted, Vince.”

The two exchanged pleasantries, and Alice shared her story of how she and Kasey survived the fall of the city, and briefly about the people given a temporary cure. When Vince explained the dangers of bringing someone exposed into his camp, Alice invited him to come on board.

“Kasey,” Vince said, his voice carrying from the front of the berg.  _ He‘s so close now_. “Nice to meet ya, finally.”

Newt didn’t hear Kasey’s response. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the pounding of his heart in his ears. The faint whisper pain in the old wound throbbed in his chest.

Vince rounded the corner and abruptly stopped.

“Vince.” Newt gave a breathy laugh.  _I really made it back._ “Man, it’s bloody good to see you.”

“The hell, man? Thought you were—“

“Stabbed? Yeah, I was.” Newt smiled, then gave a curt nod to Alice. “They found me after everyone ran off and saved my buggin life.”

Vince’s eyes inspected Newt’s hands, barely visible under the red coat he wore. It wasn’t as good as the one he used to have.  _ Wonder what happened to that thing _ .

Vince closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. Newt knew what was coming. Vince was going to send them packing, tell them it was too big of a risk.  _ Please let me see them, _Newt prayed.  _ Even if from a distance._

“Look, I get it,” Newt said before Vince could say the words he dreaded hearing. “We knew there was a chance it was too risky.”

“Newt—“ Vince began, only to be cut off by a small voice. “Please... let him see his friends.”

Thomas looked to Dante, who had his little brown chin tucked low.

Newt couldn’t stop the tear that fell from his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered, patting the boys back.

Something about Dante’s words unleashed Keisha’s restraint. Not that she ever had much to begin with. She put Dante on the ground (who instantly hurried behind Newt’s leg) and pointed her finger at Vince.

“I want you to listen, and you listen  _ real _ good, Mr. Vince. We’ve got  _ two _ docs here who know how to make the cure. Now, I didn’t come all this way to get Newt back with his friends for you to turn him away. Put us all in a separate place a mile away for all I care! But this boy nearly died and it ain’t fair to turn him away. He deserves to be safe with his friends.” She turned to Newt with barely concealed tears in her dark eyes. “ _And_ his family.”

Newt looked to the ground. There were tears of both gratitude and sadness in his eyes.  _ It‘s a lovely speech, _he thought,  _ but there‘s no way Vince will risk letting us in._

“All right.”

Newt nearly strained his neck looking up so quickly. “What?”

Vince was smiling and rubbing his blonde patchy beard. “Was gonna tell ya before your friend here ripped me a new one.” Keisha gave an unapologetic shrug. “We have a permanent cure.”

Newt stepped out of Keisha’s arms. “A... a  permanent cure?”

Even Kasey and Alice seemed startled, the latter with her hand pressed over her mouth. “How’d you do it?”

“We didn’t.” Vince’s eyes found Newt’s. “Teresa figured it out. Uh, before she died.”

_ Oh, Tommy. _Newt put a hand over his chest. As heartless as it made him feel, Newt didn’t care that Teresa died. He just wished he had been there to help Thomas grieve. _God knows most of the shanks from the glade don’t know how to deal with his emotions_. 

“All it took was some of Thomas’s blood and it eradicated the virus.”

Kasey gave an unexpected laugh. “Figures! All this time and he was right under our noses.”

Thomas had been the cure all along.  _How ironic_.

“Come on, kid,” Vince said, indicating his head to the exit. “I know some people who are gonna want to see you.”

_ I bloody hope you’re right._

Keisha gave him a little shove when he didn’t move. “Go on. We’ll be right behind ya.”

Newt smiled, and stepped out of the berg.

Thomas, Minho and Brenda were standing in a circle farther down the sandy shore. Thomas’s hands were in the air, gesturing back to the berg without turning. Minho had his hands on his hips and a bored look on his face.  _Typical_. Newt couldn’t make out their words, but the sight of his friends together was enough to make him take another step closer.

It was Brenda who saw him first. She must have seen the movement of his step towards her, because her hand flew to the gun at her side. The moment she saw him, her hand fell.

For a few agonizing seconds, she stared, blinking rapidly at Newt. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight. The boys beside her were waving their hands, trying to get her attention.  _ Stupid shanks_.

Eventually, Minho threw up a hand and looked towards the berg. The shank looked significantly better than the last time Newt had seen him. Bronzed from the sun, his tawny beige skin was darker than it used to be, and his clothes tighter around his waist. The shocked look on Minho’s face was one Newt had seen only once before, during the first moments of their reunion at WCKD the night he almost died.

Minho, clearly snapping out of his daze, grabbed Thomas by the back of his shirt and turned him to the berg. To Newt.  At first, Thomas’s eyes were unfocused, looking from the berg, to Vince, to Newt. Newt saw the moment the realization hit his eyes. Thomas’s mouth parted, and he began scanning every inch of Newt.

For some reason, it made Newt feel exposed. He took the opportunity to study the changes he saw in Tommy, too. His hair was long enough that it fell in his eyes and was beginning to curl at the nape of his neck. The facial hair, a stubble of brown on his freckled face, made him look older. Or maybe it was the purple shadows under his eyes that were more prominent than he remembered.  


Thomas’s chocolate brown eyes lifted to Newt’s.

The motion hit Newt with a force.  _How could I ever love someone else_?  He felt the smile stretch across his face at the thought. “Come here you shanks!” Newt opened his arms and was nearly tackled to the ground by Minho.

Minho gripped Newt with all his strength, rocking them side to side.

“Missed you, too, shank,” Newt said breathlessly, his eyes wandering to Thomas.

Thomas had yet to move. He stayed where he was, frozen. His eyes were unreadable, even for Newt.  _Why does he seem so unmoved? Was he okay with the fact that I was gone?_

In Newt’s ear, Minho whispered: “Don’t ever die on me again, you stupid shank. You hear me?”

Newt laughed and made his foolish promises, all the while looking over Minho’s shoulder. Thomas’s brows were furrowed as they always were when trying to analyze a situation. Was he not excited that Newt was back? The pain laced in his features said otherwise. It was a raw and broken expression, one similar to the one he wore in the moments after Chuckie‘s death.  _ Then why is the shank just standing there_?

A tear fell from Thomas’s eye.

Newt pulled from Minho as Thomas clamped a hand over his mouth. Newt wanted to scream.  _ Just come to me, you shank_! But he stayed silent, afraid of doing the wrong thing.

Brenda put a hand on Thomas’s shoulder and it was instantly shoved off. “Thomas, go,”  Brenda said. “He’s back! Newt’s back.”

Thomas staggered back, shaking his head. “No. It isn’t real.”

 _Isn’t_ _real_? Newt looked to Minho, begging for some explanation that wouldn’t crack his heart in two.

“He’s had a rough go.” There was a tension in every word Minho said that put Newt on edge. “He doesn’t... the stupid shank probably thinks it’s a dream. He‘s had really bad ones ever since we got here.”

“Tommy—" the rest of Newt’s words died on his tongue at the look on Thomas’s face. Before Newt could say, or do anything else, Thomas turned.

There were tears in both of their eyes as Tommy stormed off down the beach.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

The intensity of seeing Newt in the flesh caught Thomas by the throat. Thomas hardly noticed the other people surrounding the berg, his eyes focused on taking in every inch of his dead friend. For once, there were no black veins or dribbles of dark blood falling from his mouth. His eyes were their usual shade of coffee brown, no trace of black in sight. Thomas lowered his eyes to Newt’s chest, void of any visible sign of being stabbed.  _ By me._

Newt walked towards them with the same goofy grin he always gave, the one that caused his eyes to crinkle at the sides. The one that always made Thomas feel strange inside.

“Come here, you shanks!” Newt opened his arms and Minho nearly tackled him to the ground. _This has to be a dream_ _._ Over Minho’s shoulder, Newt met Thomas’s eyes. It reminded Thomas of another day. One filled with rescues, fights, and a final goodbyes. 

_ What if I see the golden flecks in his eyes turn to black? _ The thought caused Thomas to shatter. He clasped his hand over his mouth, barely concealing the sob rising in his throat. A hand touched his shoulder. Someone was saying Thomas’s name, urging him forward.  _ Oh, God. This is a dream._

Thomas staggered back. “No,” Thomas whimpered. “It isn’t real.”

Everyone went still at his words. The amount of pity in Minho’s face made Thomas cringe. There was hurt in Newt’s expression, his mouth turned down in a deep frown. Even in dream state, Thomas hated it.

Minho turned to Newt and whispered something.  _ This isn’t real. _Whatever Minho said caused Newt to take a step forward. “Tommy—" _Please, Tommy, please._

Thomas turned on his heel and walked away. This was the cruelest dream of them all, seeing Newt alive and free of the flare. It was worse than the bizarre nightmares and sleepless nights. It showed him what he could never have. Less than a foot down the beach, it dawned on him. Newt didn’t have the necklace on. In Thomas‘s nightmares, Newt always had the necklace dangling around his neck. In every dream, in some twisted way, Newt handed him that note. But Thomas didn’t see a necklace.   


Thomas stopped. When he turned back, Newt’s eyes were wide, filled with a raw emotion that Thomas couldn’t put into words.  _This can’t be real._ But all arguments began to fall flat as he looked at Newt for the second time. Thomas realized the subtle changes: he was taller, his jaw more defined, his once lean frame more defined and muscular. Like Thomas, Newt had grown out his hair, and the sun shining above captured the brightest pieces of the golden pieces. And around his throat... nothing. 

Thomas’s body moved before his brain caught up. He ran forward, hurling himself into Newt’s arms.  _ He’s really here._ Thomas buried his head in the crook of his neck, clinging to him with all his strength. Thomas could feel Newt’s heart beating rapid like a little bird against his cheek.  _ God, I still fucking _ —

One of Newt’s hands cupped the back of Thomas’s head, and the other wrapped firmly around his waist. “Hi, Tommy.”

“I’m sorry,” Thomas whispered into his neck. “I thought—"

“I know.” Newt rested his cheek against his head. 

Thomas clasped his hands tighter behind Newt’s back, refusing to let go. “You’re really—it’s really you.”

A sniffle. “Yeah, it’s me, you shank.”

"I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry, Newt. I'm—"

" _Enough,_ Tommy," Newt choked out, his voice breaking on Thomas's name.

Thomas leaned his head back, searching Newt’s eyes. _Had there always been this many golden flecks in them?_ “How?”  Thomas whispered.

Newt’s hand on his head lowered to the back of his shoulders, rubbing small consoling circles. “Long story.” Newt smiled, gesturing with his head. “Come on, Tommy. Gotta get your fancy blood pumping through my veins so I don’t crank out again.”

Immediately, Thomas pulled back. He wiped the tears from his eyes, ignoring he way his back was still tingling from Newt’s touch. “Let’s go... shank.”

Minho appeared, smiling in a way that confirmed even more that Thomas wasn’t dreaming. “Still sounds stupid coming out your mouth, greenie.”

For the next hour, Thomas could hardly think about anything else but Newt. The nurses who drew his blood had to repeat their questions multiple times before he heard them. Had Newt’s touch always effected him this way?

As Thomas watched Newt, his friend Keisha, and her son receive the cure, he had the startling realization that he would have gone through everything again if it meant that Newt was here in the end. Hadn’t he felt the same way about getting Minho back from WCKD? _No,_ Thomas realized. He had lost his mind trying to get Minho back, but it wasn’t the same. What he felt today with Newt was different than anything he remembered feeling before. _ I’ve never felt this way for... no one. No one but Newt. _

When Newt looked up at Thomas from the bed in the nurse hut, there was something in his eyes that Thomas had never seen before.  Resolve, joy.  It made Thomas’s heart race in his chest the way it had his very first night in the glade at the bonfire.

And throughout the night as Newt recovered, Thomas sat at his bedside and thought back on their memories: all the late night chats, lingering glances as the other walked away, the buzz he felt every time Newt said  _Tommy._ It had always been there, silently raging in Thomas’s mind, even when Teresa was around. The words Thomas began thinking the moment he hugged Newt rushed to the forefront of his mind, and it took everything in him not to gasp out loud.

_ I still fucking love Newt._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay soooo major update. I deleted the original chapter 7 and 8 I had. I didn't like them and every time I tried to write past it, I hated it!!! Originally I had Newt and Thomas be very fluff and little angst.... here's the angst.
> 
> So here is a new version of chapter 7 :)

* * *

They were sitting around the bonfire at Newt’s welcome home party. _A bonfire is fitting_ , he thought. That’s where it had all started for Thomas. He glanced at Newt over the top of his drink. The fire danced across his pale cheeks, lighting up with the smile on his face as he laughed at whatever idiotic thing Minho just said. The smile on Newt’s face did weird things to Thomas’s head. _How did I not realize it sooner?_ Ever since his revelation at Newt’s bedside. He loved Newt, even if he shouldn’t. What would Newt say if he knew?

It was then that he realized everyone’s eyes, including Newt’s, were fixed on him. “What?” Thomas spluttered.

“Have you been zoned out this entire time, Tommy?”

Thomas, praying no one noticed how long he had been staring, shrugged.

“Newt asked what happened the day… the day it all happened,” Brenda said gently. One look in her eyes told him that she _had_ noticed Thomas’s lingering stares.

“And you all looked at me, why?” Thomas asked. The idea of reliving that day made him nauseous with the alcohol resting in his gut. “You all were there, too.”

“They already told their stories, you dumb shank,” Newt explained, grinning. “They left off where I was laying on the ground like a dead shank. Wouldn’t tell me anything else without ya, Tommy.”

 _Great._ Thomas met Minho’s nervous gaze. Why did they have to leave the hard explanations up to him? “Uh,” Thomas cleared his throat. “After… _that_ , I ran into WCKD—“

Newt choked on his drink. “You did _what?_ ”

Thomas glared at Minho, who shrugged. _You’re the dumb shank who did it,_ his eyes seemed to say. “I doubt you heard Teresa’s broadcast about my blood.” Newt shook his head, his blonde shaggy hair falling over his eyes. “Teresa broadcast over the entire city about my blood being the cure. I had to go in.”

Newt rolled his eyes and leaned his head back towards the sky. _This is why I didn’t want to say anything,_ Thomas thought. When Thomas didn’t continue, too busy staring at the way Newt’s shirt rose up, exposing a tiny bit of skin above his belt, Newt turned his head. “You gonna finish, Tommy?”

 _Finish what?_ Thomas almost asked. “Oh. After I ran in, Janson shot Ava.” Thomas spit the words out as quickly as possible, hoping to get it over with and deal with the backlash. “He tied me up and tried to get the cure. Teresa and I fought him, he shot me, then we went to the roof. That’s where the others were waiting with the berg.” He kept his eyes on Newt, gaging Newt’s reaction. “I made it, Teresa didn’t.”

For a beat too long, Newt kept his eyes on Thomas. He said nothing. There was something unsettling about the unsteady expression on Newt’s features, the dark look in his eyes as he searched Thomas’s body up and down.

Thomas knew, as he always did when it came to Newt, what was on his mind. He ran a hand over the healing wound on his stomach.

Newt tracked the motion, and clenched his jaw. He looked like he was about to say something, then turned and took a sip of Gally’s drink in his hand. Eventually, Newt sighed and shook his head. “You’re a bloody idiot, Tommy. Can’t believe I’m saying it, but I’m sorry about Teresa."

The others took over telling about the journey to safe haven, Thomas’s millionth near death experience, and about life so far in paradise. The entire time they spoke, Thomas’s eyes kept wandering to Newt. He nodded along as the others spoke, but Thomas could tell he wasn’t actually paying attention. His hands were clenched at his side, and he kept exhaling every few seconds as if he were furious. As oblivious as he was, Thomas knew Newt’s anger was directed at him. He just didn’t know why. As he always did when he was stressed, Thomas clutched at the necklace he always wore. _Did Newt still mean what he wrote in it?_

“Who are the two doctors with you?” Sonya asked Newt.

“No buggin’ clue. Real strange, though. The woman, Alice, can’t go two seconds without flinchin’ when I’m around.”

“You blame her?” Minho asked. “She worked for WCKD, you shank. Course she flinches around ya.”

Newt laughed, but when he looked up and met Thomas’s eyes, it stopped short. Thomas was about to ask what was wrong when Newt clapped his hands to his knees. “Well, it’s been a buggin’ long day. Come show me to my room, Minho. I’ll see the rest of you shanks bright an’ early.” And he walked off without a glance at Thomas.

Thomas watched Newt walk away, mouth agape. He turned back to the others, who were all glaring at Thomas. “What did I do?” he asked.

Brenda sighed. “Oh, Thomas.”

“You’re a shucking idiot,” Minho said, walking towards the direction Newt went. “If you don’t know, I can’t help ya.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fast update since the last chapter was so short :)

* * *

The entire walk back to Newt’s room with Minho was silent. Minho talked, but Newt couldn’t get the image out of his head. The way Thomas clasped the necklace containing the Newt wrote to him on his death bed. Newt patted Minho on the back and thanked him at the door of the hut he would be staying by himself for a few days—per Vince’s request. Then he would move in with Thomas and Minho. _That will be a bloody disaster,_ he thought. As he stormed in the hut, Keisha was leaned against the wall waiting for him.

“You and Dante got your own hut now,” Newt griped. “Why’re ya here?”

Keisha narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, inspecting him. “You alright, son?”

Newt shook his head. “Just buggin tired is all.”

“Thought you knew better than to lie to me.”

“He got himself shot,” was what Newt lead with.

Keisha’s dark eyes widened. “Who—Your Tommy?”

“Don’t call him that.”

“Fine.” Keisha raised her hands in defeat. “What ya mean he got shot?”

Newt plopped down on the bed next to Dante, who was playing with one of the toys he had been gifted by someone earlier in the day. “Stupid shuck face nearly got himself buggin’ killed after he thought I died. Ran into WCKD’s headquarters and got shot by the rat man. Janson.”

“Why’re you whining?” Keisha questioned. “Your friends survived! Not like you could’ve done anything if they hadn’t.”

Newt leaned back flat on the bed, letting his legs stay dangling over the edge. He stared at the wood ceiling of the hut. Why couldn’t he let it go? He knew where Thomas’s mind was—where it always would be. And it wasn’t with him.

“Not about that, is it?”

“What’re you yapping about now?” he asked.

“You’re not just mad he nearly got himself killed. Few days ago you couldn't shut up about his stupid smile. So, what else is bugging ya?”

Newt huffed a laugh. “Doesn’t matter. Stupid shank always does whatever he wants. Nothing I could’ve done about it.”

After a moment’s pause, Keisha said, “You told him yet?”

The tone in her voice made Newt lift his head from the bed. “Told him what?”

Keisha shook her head, giving him a glare she reserved for anytime Newt or Dante said something foolish. “You know what.”

Newt plopped back down on the bed, rolling his eyes. “Fat chance I’ll ever tell him that.”

“You should tell him,” Dante whispered, placing a hand on Newt’s shoulder.

“You think?” Smiling, Newt turned his head to Dante. The boy watched him with big brown eyes. It still caught him by surprise every time he spoke. Which, so far, Newt could count on one hand. “Nah,” Newt said. “He’s a goofy shank, don’t you think?”

Dante laughed and turned his focus back to the toy in his hand.

“No good’ll come from avoiding the truth,” Keisha said, but her voice was gentle. How was it she knew him so well in a matter of months? _The same shucking thing happened with Thomas._

Before he could reply, there was a knock on the door. Keisha, who was closer to the tiny gaps in the hut, raised her brow. She laughed. “Good luck with _that_ , _”_ she said, then grabbed Dante and raised him into her arms. “Remember what I just told ya.”

“Wait,” Newt said. “Who—“ Before he could finish, Keisha opened the door and stepped aside.

“Uh,” Thomas muttered, shifting on his feet. “Can I come in?”

Keisha looked back at Newt, winked, and left. _Bloody helpless woman,_ he grumbled to himself. In the doorway, Thomas stood, his cheeks still flushed from the fire.

 _Stupid shank still looks good._ Newt stood up and began arranging the assortment of clothes Vince had given him, keeping his eyes off of Thomas. “What is it Tommy?” Newt heard him sink onto Newt’s cot in the middle of the room. After several seconds of uncomfortable silence, Newt turned around. Thomas was twisting his hands together, staring at Newt with an expression that he couldn’t place.

“What do you want? I’m bloody tired and haven’t had a good night’s rest in months. So get on with it,” Newt snapped. It sounded harsher than he intended it to be.

Thomas dropped his eyes to the floor. “Minho said I was a shucking idiot.”

Newt, who was placing one of the shirts in a pile on the corner, laughed. “Did he? Guess WCKD didn’t mess him up too bad in the head if he’s still got his wits about him.”

“Did I—did I do something?” Thomas asked. “I’ve been running it all through my head. Everything from tonight. From before.” He sounded so unsure of himself that Newt sighed and abandoned his clothing.

“Spit it out, Tommy,” Newt said, trying not to cave at the hurt he saw reflected in Tommy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. I should have said it the second I saw you. God, I’m so sorry Newt." Thomas wiped his eye on his sleeve. "I almost killed you.”

Any sadness Newt felt for Thomas vanished. “Minho was right,” Newt concluded. “You’re a bloody idiot.”

Thomas flinched back. “Newt—"

“I asked you to kill me to give you a better chance, Tommy! Not so you would run off and waste it by darting right back into Teresa’s arms. That's what's the buggin' matter with me.”

“I went in because of WCKD, Newt,” Thomas said helplessly, his face twisting with grief. “They had the cure.”

“Same buggin’ thing!” Newt laughed, hoping it covered the sob rising in his chest. “It’s always her,” Newt said, his voice breaking. “Always the buggin’ traitor. It was Teresa before the maze. And her after _—_ even when she betrayed all of us! Knowing all that and you _still_ ran in after her.”

Thomas’s cheeks flushed bright red. “This isn’t about Teresa!”

 _It’s always about Teresa,_ Newt thought. He knew he was being a selfish shank. Knew he wasn't being fair to Thomas. But something in him snapped after learning about what happened after he 'died' that night. “Come on, Tommy!" he pleaded. "Everyone knew how you felt about the shank!”

“She let you die,” Thomas said plainly. The words caught Newt by surprise. It had always been Thomas to defend Teresa, even until the end. What had changed?

“This conversation is… we’re through talking about this, Thomas.” Newt didn’t miss the way Thomas flinched at his full name. Even now, Newt couldn't bear to hurt him. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Look, Tommy. Been a long night. We can talk about it later. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Thomas said, turning for the door. Then he paused. “Actually, no. We can’t.” He turned back to Newt, his eyes glazed over. “Do you have any idea what it was like without you? When you were gone?”

Newt came up short. “What?”

“I was _lost_ without you, Newt. God, I was so lost.” Thomas’s eyes welled up and he shook his head. "Every night since we got here, we all sit by the fire talking. Well, Fry and Sonya talk and we listen. I couldn’t... I still saw your face in the glade, introducing me to everyone and giving me Gally’s drink to try. Every night I could still hear your voice in the city over all the noise. The look on your face when the knife went in." Thomas smiled, but it was anything but happy. "Everyone was so tired of me talking about you. I kept looking to my side, expecting you to be sitting there. Laughing about whatever comment Minho made. But every time I turned, the spot was empty."

Newt had to look to the ground to avoid letting the tears fall. _I still fucking love you,_ Newt thought. It was hard not to think about it when two sad brown eyes were staring back at him, looking at him as if he were about to break. All Newt wanted was for Tommy to be happy. It was all he ever wanted, even in the middle of them fighting. How did the stupid shank not know the effect he had on him? 

"Nothing was ever the same after what she did that day in the scorch," Thomas continued. Every word Thomas gave was another stab to his chest, pestering the old wound that had long healed. For Thomas, things may have changed in the scorch. For Newt, everything changed the moment Thomas ran into the maze. "She was the reason Minho was taken, the reason you nearly died. You think Teresa is the reason I ran in there that night?” Thomas laughed. “Maybe you’re a shucking idiot too, Newt.”  
  
Newt’s head shot up. What he saw etched on Thomas’s face was worse than when they reunited at the beach. It was a look Newt didn’t dare make sense of. Because it couldn’t possibly mean what it appeared to mean. _Even in her death, the stupid shank is making me doubt Thomas._ Newt opened his mouth to shout at Tommy to leave, but Thomas cut him off.

"I should’ve known the whole time. But I didn’t.” He pushed to his feet, avoiding looking at Newt. “Minho’s right.” Then Thomas did as he usually did. He ran.


End file.
